


Little Pictures

by SeaofSin



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Badly, Based on headcanons, Childhood, Drabbles, Drunkeness, F/M, Incest, Kissing, Lingerie, Pietro does laundry, Texting, Twincest, Update tags as I go, awkward sexual mishaps, confusing texts, drunk Pietro, maxicest, mostly - Freeform, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaofSin/pseuds/SeaofSin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maxicest Drabbles based upon various headcanons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asgardian Ales are Stronger Than They Look

Pietro has never been drunk in his life before. Alcohol never had much of an effect on him, courtesy of his enhanced metabolism, and no matter how much he managed to throw back into his seemingly endless pit of a stomach, he would never so much as stumble over a single word. Or at least this was the case, up until the point Thor offered him some Asgardian liquors.

"Careful now, this stuff is strong," Thor cautioned, handing him a tiny portion of the liquor.

"Yeah, yeah. I've had 'strong', never did a thing to me. Come on, give me a little more, doubt this stuff is going to do a thing for me," Pietro said, looking distastefully at the meager portion of blue liquid in his glass.

"It's far more potent then any Midgardian liquors, I would strongly suggest-"

"Oh hush, I'm not a lightweight. If this stuff is really as strong as you're saying it is, we'll know in a few minutes," Pietro insisted, shoving the shot glass back into Thor's hands.

With a shrug, Thor poured a little more into the glass before returning it to him, sending a deeply apologetic look towards Wanda.

Thor was never one to jest, it seemed, and within minutes Pietro seemingly felt the effects, his words becoming slurred and his eyelids heavy.

Wanda has never seen Pietro so entirely uncoordinated, his entire body, normally so smooth and elegant in its movements, now becoming far less fluid. And he insisted he could still move at his 'normal' pace.

Upon standing up, he immediately managed to stumble, falling over his heels and backwards before catching himself on the bar, his palms dragging along its cool stone surface.

"We're good, just an untied shoelace," he hiccuped, smiling at the rest of the Avengers and pushing himself to his feet. "See? We're good."

Upon finishing that sentence he ran himself directly into a wall, landing gracelessly on his back.

"Was that wall always there? Or did it sneak up on me?" he groaned, pushing himself to his knees and shooting a sour look at the wall.

"I'll take him home," Wanda said, placing her glass down with a sigh.

"No, I'm good. I'm good, sweetie," Pietro insisted, scrambling back into an upright position. "See?" he said before promptly charging head first into a second wall, uttering a pained groan as he fell back down.

"Come on, we're going home," she chuckled, walking to his side to look down at him as he sprawled out on the floor.

"No, I'm good. Not my fault the walls keep moving," he slurred. "Stark and his fancy technology."

"Pietro, they aren't moving. You just ran into them."

"No, no, I'm pretty sure they're moving," he insisted, pouting slightly.

"Well, let's go home then, where the walls aren't moving," she teased, wrapping her arms under his so she could haul him to his feet.

"That actually sounds like a good idea. You're smart," he giggled, poking her cheek playfully before kissing her nose.

Well, at least she now knew what kind of drunk her brother was, she decided as they walked out of the facility.

"You're _reeeeallly_ pretty, you know that?" Pietro slurred, the most stupid of grins painted on his face. "Pretty, pretty Wanda. I-" there was a pause in his speech so he could hiccup, covering his mouth as he began to giggle before his train of thought returned "I'm a really lucky guy."

"Mm, considering that I have to drag your drunk ass back home, I would certainly hope you appreciate me," she joked, ruffling his hair lightly.

"So lucky. Though I'm not so lucky in the fact that my head hurts," Pietro continued, frowning slightly.

"Poor baby, here, let me make it better," Wanda chuckled, stopping their walk so she could kiss the crown of his head gently. He seemed to like that, based on the way he leaned into her touch and the frown dissipated from his face into a beaming smile.

"That's better," he said simply, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders and crushing her into a warm embrace.

A soft sigh passed her lips as she leaned into his embrace, returning the hug and nestling herself into his arms. Even while drunk, he still gave the best hugs and the love that she had thought only possible in dreams. They remained quiet for several moments, tucked into the other's embrace under the light of the street lamp, as they quietly enjoyed the affection. Eventually it had to end, and it did with a quick kiss to his mouth and a pat to his cheek. "Mm, love you, Pietro. Now, come on, let's get you home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small collection of drabbles, will update randomly, but will try for once every three or four days.


	2. Some Translation Required

Technology proved to both a blessing and a burden in the twins' relationship. Contact was made easier by calls, allowing them to feel less anxious whilst separated, and Skype was possibly one of the greatest things invented, in consideration of their jobs. Texting, on the other hand, tended to be more of a source of headaches for Wanda. It wasn't that she didn't love receiving little texts from Pietro, but it was the _way_ he texted that drove her up the wall. Wanda would insist upon texting with the best grammar, spelling and punctuation she could. Pietro... Pietro couldn't seem to be bothered with any of that, let alone correct spacing in his texts, making it some sort of project to respond to his little notes.

Normally, she could decipher what it was her twin was saying to her through context of their conversation, but one day, upon being presented a rather confusing mess of a text without any prior conversation, Wanda found herself at a complete loss.

 _Uwntchnsfod?_ asked the offending text. Not a single portion of the question was determinable, and without any previous conversation to refer to, Wanda couldn't help but shake her head as she read the message over and over, attempting to dissect the question.

Eventually, she just gave up. Sighing, she gave a brief glance up towards her teammates. "Can someone please translate? I've honestly got no idea what he's asking," Wanda asked, frowning as she puzzled over the incredibly nonsensical text she had received from her brother. "He's not even using real words, and his abbreviations leave much to be desired."

Her answer came from Clint, who raised his hand, gesturing for her to come over and give him the phone. "I'm pretty good with text lingo, use it all the time myself, let's take a look." Upon receiving the phone, all confidence seemed to slip from his expression. "Oh. Okay... Give me a second, this one is new."

Several silent moments passed as Clint glanced over the text, attempting to speak the word aloud, perhaps hoping to find the answer somewhere in its pronunciation. "Uwntchnsfod? Hmm, well, based on the missing vowels, I'm guessing he's asking if you want Chinese food for dinner or something. Don't know what he has against the space bar though," was his final verdict before he returned her phone.

"Thank you. I honestly can't understand half of the things he texts me. The only thing he actually takes the time to type out is 'I love you'," Wanda replied gratefully, tapping out a response before tucking her phone into her pockets.

"Well, that's certainly a nice sentiment. Anyways, if you need deciphering, come to me. Or Nat. She's an expert on that kinda stuff. Speaks God knows how many languages, I'm sure she can decode whatever Roadrunner here texts you," came Clint's response, a low chuckle of amusement following before he moved himself out of the room, probably to go get coffee in the break room. The man was practically addicted to the stuff.

Wanda was about to make her leave and head towards the gym for a quick training session when her phone buzzed in her pocket, alerting her to another text. A soft smile crossed her lips as she read the message.

_I love you._

She didn't need a translator for that.

_I love you too._


	3. Lingerie Mishaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pietro can't figure out lingerie.

There was nothing quite so pleasing to Wanda as when she could manage to surprise Pietro. She could almost live for it; the way he smiled, the way his eyes would shine, and his sweet kisses he would shower upon her certainly made hours or even days of planning and preparation all worth it.

Tonight, however, would be something else entirely.

Cautious fingers ran over her form, smoothing the fabrics that clung close to her skin. She glanced at herself in the mirror with a faint smile, the damned thing has been something of a challenge to put on, but well worth the effort.

Expensive as it was, she did have to say the lingerie did make her look quite nice. Sheer scarlet adorned her body, falling in curtain-like folds over her skin, and the bold red color drawing attention to her contrasting green eyes and pouted red lips.

Pietro would certainly die with delight at the sight, she thought, smirking faintly as she pictured his stunned yet pleased face.

Only a few minutes until he would be home. For now, she would simply set herself up on the couch, where he would be certain to see her first thing when he entered the apartment, and wait with a book.

As expected, mere minutes later there was the scraping sound of the key in the lock that alerted Wanda to his arrival. As the door opened, she stretched herself slightly, bringing herself into full view. His expression was nothing short of completely shocked, and he immediately slammed he door shut.

"Well, I haven't seen this one before," he managed to say after a silent moment of gawking, eyes wide and breath somewhat tense. In a heartbeat, he was by her side, sitting on the couch and eyes carefully roving over her form.

Without so much as a beat wasted, she climbed over him, knees braced on either sides of his hips as she leaned in close. A quiet, almost inaudible groan followed, and Wanda simply chuckled, her brother reacting favorably to the sound as she could feel him stiffen beneath her. "No, it's new. And it was bought just for you," she purred, kissing his jaw.

A smile followed, as well as a kiss, and her fingers instinctively began to travel over his back to toy with the wisps of white hair at the nape of his neck.

"Well, scarlet has always been your color, my little witch," he teased, smirking up at her before letting his eyes wander a bit, his fingers following in their wake.

More hot and heavy kisses followed, his tongue asking for permission to go further, and hands moving over the smooth fabrics, coming to clasp at her hips.

Wanda grinned against his mouth. Well, he was eager enough. "You're a very transparent man, my Pietro. You're very blatant with what you want, even if you don't say it," she whispered, clutching his shoulders lightly and grinning against the shell of his ear.

"Can you blame me? You're a vision of loveliness in that," he pouted playfully. "Though I do think it would look better off you."

"Hmm, prefer to see it on the floor?" she laughed, grinning brightly.

"As you said: I'm quite blatant with what I like," Pietro replied, his fingers coming to search for the clasps of the outfit. Frowning, he furrowed his brows, palms tracing over her back, and fingers pressing at the seam of her bra.

Wordlessly, he attempted to once again find a clasp, fingers searching her bra's straps before diving under the gauzy material hanging over her stomach. Frustrated now, his fingers traveled down, attempting to pull off the garter belt at the very least before giving a huff of annoyance.

"Need help?" she asked.

"No," he said. He was stubborn, and rarely asked for help on anything, even from Wanda. Fisting the sheer material, he gave a tug, wondering just how the hell this thing was supposed to come off.

With an annoyed noise, Pietro once again attempted to make sense of her garter belts, and Wanda was beginning to find this all too amusing, a faint chuckle passing her lips.

"Don't you dare laugh," he sighed, flipping her onto the couch so he could pull back and take in the whole picture, said it would somehow help him make heads or tails of her garment.

"You sure you don't want any help?" she offered again.

"No, I don't need it," he said, kneeling in front of her as he once again attempted to remove her costume.

Wanda giggled as his fingers ran over her skin, faintly tickling her as he clumsily searched her body for any sign of a way to take off the lingerie.

Fingers catching in the thin fabric hanging beneath her breasts, he gave another tug, this time a bit harder. The faint ripping sounds shocked both of them, and he quickly threw himself back.

"Shit, I didn't mean to-"

Wanda sighed, standing up and searching the outfit for the tear. "It was really expensive too..."

"I'll buy you a new one," Pietro offered, voice soft.

Wanda simply shook her head, grinning. "It's a stupid piece of cloth anyways," she said, letting it drop to the floor in a pool, relishing in his expression of pure adoration at the gesture. "Besides, the real fun begins when it's on the floor."


	4. How Much Soap?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laundry machines are too confusing.

Pietro gave an annoyed huff as he dragged the basket full of his and Wanda's laundry down the stairs, the plastic bumping down the stairs for a brief moment until he swept it in his arms, his elbow moving towards the light switch. 

With a grimace, he stared at his nemesis: the laundry machine. Back when he and Wanda were wandering around, they've never had such a luxury, and would either reuse clothes or wait until they found a riverbank where they could wash everything in one go. Something about this machine daunted him. There were rules that he was given by Stark prior to entering the wash room: separate colors-especially the red clothes Wanda was fond of from the whites, lest they wanted a nice shade of pink on everything else- put the soap in the proper compartment, otherwise it wouldn't be as effective, don't use bleach unless you're only doing whites, don't let it sit for too long after washing, or mold would grow... and this was only the tip of the metaphorical iceberg.

With a hefty sigh, he dropped the basket, moving towards the machine and peeking in. Wanda knew how to do this, she's done it the only other time they've washed their things during their short time at Stark Tower, and without her, Pietro couldn't help but feel a little lost. Lips pressed into a thin line, he turned back towards the pile of clothes he had managed to sort out prior to coming in, and began shoving as much as physically possible into the machine before reaching for the bottle of what he assumed was soap.

He narrowed his eyes as he scanned over the label, and rubbed his temples, snarling in frustration. Fuck. He couldn't read English. Hell, he could hardly read past a ten year old's education in Romanian. Why was life so damned hard sometimes? With a disgruntled sigh, he opted to dump the entire bottle into the machine, hoping it would suffice. 

Well, at least the clothes would be incredibly clean, he thought, and shut the door to the machine and flicking it on. The wash roared to life, and the trickling sounds of water followed, indicating it was working, and he could go about his day.

By the time he and Wanda went to retrieve their things, the evidence of his ineptitude was everywhere. Bubbles as far as the eye could see, poured all over the floor and creeping up the walls when there was nowhere else it could go, the foam touching the bottom few steps of the stairs.

Wanda was the first to speak after a long moment of shocked silence. "What did you do?"

"The laundry," Pietro replied bitterly, swatting at the nearby mass of bubbles.

"Well, clearly you did it wrong," Wanda snickered, wading her way through the foam, yanking open the lid of the machine to retrieve the soapy clothes.

"What gave you that idea?" he said, the faintest smile crossing his lips. Somehow, Wanda could make any bad situation better.

Wanda simply laughed. "Oh, just a thought," she said, grinning over her shoulder briefly before turning towards him. "I love you, but from now on, I think I'll do the laundry. You're better at dishes anyhow."

Pietro nodded, pulling the rest of the sopping wet clothes from the machine and thrusting them into the dryer before pulling her into a hug. "Fine by me. Now come on, I need to explain to Miss Potts why the laundry room is destroyed, and I need you to protect me."


	5. Only Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Maxicest Week, day five. Prompt: Childhood.

Childhood was never an option for children of war. Adulthood, it had been joked, began as soon as a baby could speak their first word. They had never quite understood the phrase until it clattered over their heads.

Adulthood had been thrust upon them the moment the shell hit the floor. Suspended in a state of disbelief and sheer terror, they believed themselves dead, and their death was staring them right in the eye.

There had never been such stillness in the Maximoff house. It was always teeming with unbridled energy, an almost infectious enthusiasm brought about by their protective parents and childish naïvety. Each shift in their bodies, each breath seemed to perpetuate a growing paranoia, and the sounds of movement in the bricks brought about spells of utter terror in their hearts.

Their saviors came two days later, grim faced and hollow eyed. Though they would not say it, it was overheard the faint conversation -which was most likely purposefully so, Pietro came to reason - that they were the only survivors in their block. Their lives were irrevocably changed with that one, heart shattering whisper.

The reaction was immediate. Run, and as fast as they could before the dodgy child protective services came along, taking them to foster homes where they would be more than likely to be separated.

They only had each other left, and they were not willing to give that up for the world.  
...  
Thirteen years old, and already weary of the world, the twins had travelled the city to its fullest extent, scoured every inch in an attempt to find a place to claim as their own, if only for a little while.

They had nothing, no home, no place in the world. Nothing but their names and each other.

And they had grown to appreciate that.


End file.
